


Wilted Flowers

by KatArturus



Series: The Ballad of Karnation Lee [5]
Category: Bloody Mary (pulp), Doctor Who, Godzilla - All Media Types, Maltese Falcon - Dashiell Hammett, Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966), Metroid Series, Star Trek, Teen Titans (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 00:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatArturus/pseuds/KatArturus
Summary: The final adventure of Karnation Lee took place at the side of the ghostly adventurer Bloody Mary. A demoness from Mary's past rose out of the darkness. She did not walk away without a victim.This story ties in with the plot of Atom Mudman Bezecny's Meta-Terrax, as the character of Lady Zoga first appeared there. http://oddtalesofwonder.wixsite.com/oddtales/meta-terrax





	Wilted Flowers

The year was 1969. The year was not supposed to be 1969.

 

Provided, that it was the wrong year was not a detriment for the two people whom it concerned. One of them came from ten years hence, and only lived in the late 1940s by the arrangement of the other. The woman from '79 was Penelope Darwood, the wife of Ernest Darwood, a veritable lord of time who had had carried on many experiments in time-travel with her present companion before his unfortunate death. Bloody Mary had always lamented Ernest's death at the hands of the time-demon Kul'ul, and she had used his time-machine to locate Penelope and tell her the news. Then Penelope had started a new life, becoming the latest of Mary's traveling partners, living with her temporarily in her native year of 1946. They had many adventures together—some horrific, some enlightening. She worried now about the child she left behind. In life, Ernest had never brought her a child. But using his time-machine caused her to cross paths with him when he was adventuring with Mary in the relative past. Explaining his future to him against Mary's wishes, she had shared a night with him that left her pregnant. The timeline-desynchronization erased both Ernest and the younger Mary's memories of the encounter, but the memory of giving birth to her son, John Basil Darwood, was fresh in her mind. Mary's cousin Brian Hammerstein was babysitting, but every adventure now meant that she could leave her child an orphan. In any case, she didn't like being thrown through time when it was against her will. She preferred Bloody Mary taking her through time via the Mirror-Realm, or using Ernest's machine.

 

Bloody Mary herself certainly hated being thrown around in that fashion. She was sulking now, as she stared at the quartet of persons who had confronted her and Penelope. There was a young woman among them, who wore dark clothes that combined fashions from both the 1960s and the early 2000s, whose ginger hair swept down past her shoulders. Beside her was an aging man with alcoholic eyes and slick dark hair; a carnation marked the lapel of his white suit. The third entity was the strangest of all. It seemed to be a golden reptile of vaguely humanoid proportions, with a crook back and wide-spread legs emerging from the rounded shape of his belly. From the tip its crocodilian snout emerged a single horn, like that of a rhinoceros. Two similar spikes emerged from the front of its belly. Rolling down its backside was a long pelt of moss-green fur. It seemed almost to be smiling at her. But leading this trio was a very familiar figure: herself. An older incarnation of herself, as she'd be in 1969, twenty years later.

 

Both of them had shed the guise of Bloody Mary to instead take on the appearance of their true self, Francine Rainsford. Having seated herself, her fifty-year-old incarnation said aloud, “So what do we do now that that thing has happened again?”

 

“Yeah, 'that thing,'” Mary-1946 said. “That thing that happened in 1942, when we met ourselves in 1983. That thing that happened with Ernest, about a year ago. And _then_ , after that, that thing happened when we ended up in 1950, while we took a break from Zoga-hunting to fight the Octopus instead. So at least I know what next year is like. Something about a short-term alliance with some psychic named Blake Hart. And I _could_ mention 1947, with Zahl Doone and Immorté, but I didn't meet myself then.”

 

“Oh, trust me, you ain't seen nothin' yet,” Mary-1969 replied. “Our timeline gets truly twisted, sister. We meet ourselves all the time. The Golden Guardians are _pissed_.”

 

“Well, I frankly don't give a damn about those jerks. Always trying to steal our machine. Right, Penelope?”

 

“Admittedly, the Golden Guardians do kind of harass us,” Penelope said. “My husband—”

 

“You can call him Ernest,” Mary-1969 said. “I'm still Francine. I'm Bloody Mary. All of our adventures, Penelope, and all my adventures with Ernest—I remember them. How's Johnny?”

 

“He's—doing well,” Penelope said, finding relief in meeting a Mary who had already met her. “What I was going to say is that Ernest's assistant—Larna—she gave us that—that shield, you remember? The anti-Guardian shield.”

 

“Yeah, that's fairly new for you, isn't it? Served me well over the years.”

 

“I'm glad. Larna was proud of it,” Penelope said.

 

“I know,” grinned the older Mary. And Penelope laughed. “Well, my memories are a little spotty, probably due to time-desync issues. I couldn't tell you why you're here if I tried. But if it's 1949 for you, then I suspect it has something to do with someone I'd hoped was dead. Lady Zoga. You mentioned Zoga-hunting...”

 

“Yes, we're getting close to year four now,” Mary said sadly. “She still causing trouble for you? It's been Hell. Brian, Dad, and I have been making strikes on Klan nests in Kentucky and Virginia between missions, but I'm tired. I was almost crazy when the Octopus started making trouble.”

 

“It gets better. Always does, on this long road to 1983,” the older Mary said. “It pains me to know that once 1970 hits, I'm down to my last full decade. I'll get a little sample of the '80s afterward and then it's down to business. But that's how it goes. Someone's got to take down Tsuu-Aas.”

 

“Agreed,” her young self replied. “So. Before we figure out what Zoga is trying to do to us, I'd like to meet your friends.”

 

“Too bad we can't do the same—we know Mary too well already for your introduction to make sense,” said the man with the flower.

 

“Karnation!” cried the young woman. “Don't be so cynical. I know you're feeling better, you said so yourself. Leave Mary's younger self alone.”

 

“Can't help it, Lil,” he replied. “I'm hungover. I always say too much when I'm hungover...”

 

The woman he'd called “Lil” now looked at Penelope and Mary-'49. “Ignore him. He can be a real caveman sometimes. I'm Lilith, by the way, Lilith Clay. Though by now you mostly call me Raven, because that's my real name. Raven Re á l.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Mary said with a grin. “And you, she said your name was Karnation. She said it with a hard 'cuh' sound, is that intentional?”

 

“I spell it with a K, sure,” the man said. “Name's Karnation Lee. I'm a detective and roboticist of variable personality. As you'll find out people like fucking with my head.”

 

“Karn!”

 

“And Lil doesn't like it when I swear, so I'm trying to cut back. Anything for a pal. This little psychic dame's saved my life quite a few times, so I'd say she's handy.”

 

“I used my telekinesis to steal both your smokes and your lighter.”

 

“Yeah, she likes doin' that.”

 

“And who are you?” Mary asked, pointing at the reptilian creature. “You look like you've got a tale to tell.”

 

The creature covered its face as if embarrassed. The older Mary said, “Kroco is a little shy at first. He's unfamiliar with most forms of life. We scared the hell out of him when we first met. Karnation was taking us on a tour of the future—he's from the future, you see—and we ended up on a rainy planet with a bunch of dangerous biomes. Kroco is part of a far-future army of space pirates, or will be once his training is done. He was kidnapped from his planet at a young age. If you want to hear him tell it—he does have a translation pendant Karn made for him. But if he doesn't want to talk that's okay.”

 

“Yeah, no worries, Kroco, I don't want to scare you and neither does Penelope.” Then she stepped close to her future self and dropped her voice low. “Is—is he like a dog?”  
  


“What? No! He's like a really smart kid! Jeez, I don't remember being such a rude motherfucker before.” Mary's face lit up at that, but her older self said, “It's the '60s. We're saying the words you all were thinking.”

 

“True enough. Well, my apologies, then.”

 

“No worries, Mary,” came a strange voice then. “I don't take offense.” It was a robotic-sounding voice, but it wasn't like any sort of technology they had on Earth in 1949; only the robots Immorté had on Rheton spoke that crisply. She saw then that Kroco had taken his large, two-clawed hands away from his face. Only now did she see the pale cord around his neck, which suspended a small blue stone. The voice came from that stone, and now Mary could see that the creature's mouth moved as if producing sounds—yet these movements didn't match what he was saying. That must have been the translator, then, absorbing the sound as it came from his mouth to convert it into English.

 

“I-I'm sorry you overheard.”

 

“No, I'm used to humans saying I look like an animal. The resemblance goes both ways. In the ancient days of Breon, mammal humanoids were often farmed for meat.”

 

“Breon? Is that that planet that she—that I—was just talking about?”

 

“No, Breon is far from...that other world. Breon is where I was born; where I hatched, alongside the other Krocosaurs.”

 

“Is Kroco just your nickname, then? Short for Krocosaur?”

 

“No, it's my real name. When the pirates took us to their world, they gave us names. We were named for each of our specialties—Krocosaur Spy, Krocosaur Clawmancer, and so on. I was Krocosaur Raider, named for my swiftness and quick, clever paws. But Kroco works for me.”

  
“I see. But your species—tell me about them. I want to know about Breon.”

 

“Breon was once a dead world until it was graced by the body of a dead god. That's the legend among the Breonites, anyway, which I've only learned by traveling with you, Mary. Our god was a dragon-god. The father of this dragon grew on your Earth in the nourishing flames of nuclear devastation, in the middle of the 20th Century. The nuclear-born monster fought many creatures like himself over the years, and several of his enemies imitated him. There was a mechanical version, and a version made from the pollution-creature he warred against, and even a version made from Precambrian bacteria merging with his DNA while he was under the effects of a bioweapon. The clone of his that became the god of my people was formed when he clashed with a human experiment gone wrong. This experiment was another clone of the dragon—a fusion of the dragon's cells with a Krynoid vegetable-alien and the psychic memory of a human girl. This biological monstrosity, like a demonic flower, was the dragon's first opponent when he reappeared after vanishing for a while.” Kroco paused. “Mary, I should tell you now that I like flowers. Your future self taught me to. Flowers bring me a happiness I don't have a name for.”

 

“Oh!” Mary cried. “That's sweet! That makes me happy, that you like flowers.”

 

“I know,” Kroco said proudly. “I like Lee's flowers the most.”

 

Raven took the carnation off Karnation Lee's lapel—he seemed used to it. She handed it to Kroco, who held it in his hands and stared with his large green eyes that shimmered like jellies. “Good thing I built that portal to the carnation dimension, I can pick as many as I want,” Lee murmured. “Still wish I didn't have to do nonsense like that, though.”

 

Mary was now wondering why her future self was willing to travel with Lee. But she must have seen something in him through experience that Mary couldn't see now as a stranger to him. “Go on, Kroco. It sounds like there's more to tell.”

 

“The dragon of Earth faced the giant flower which had been birthed from his genes,” Kroco said. “In order to the defeat it, the dragon launched it into space; or maybe it was carried off by his old friend, a mammoth butterfly worshiped in the South Seas. It was destroyed but it left a cloud of particles which drifted through the space between Earth and Mars. This 'pollen' was made of a genetic fusion of the dragon and the flower. When it landed on Mars it came in contact with a crystalline being which had been resting there—on Breon they call them Branchers. The two bodies absorbed each other, resulting in the Brancher growing a dragon body as a parasitic attachment of sorts, reminiscent of the dragon back on Earth. Not only did this false body disguise the fact that the crystal mass erupting from the dragon's back was the real creature, but the dragon-body was also the creature's defense mechanism. It had many imitations of the dragon's powers, including its nuclear breath.”

 

“I hate to interrupt, you two, but—Mary. Shouldn't we be making more ground against Zoga?”

 

“I want to know who my team is,” Mary said. “I know what miracles _you're_ capable of, Penelope. Kroco deserves his chance if I'm going to be meeting him someday.”

 

“It won't do you much good,” admitted Mary-1969. “I didn't remember a lick of this when I met him, so it's safe to say that whatever happens here is not something you'll remember in clear detail. If it's not desync, it's the Golden Guardians tampering with your head.” Karnation Lee seemed to shudder at those words, but the younger Mary didn't know why.

 

“Just let me listen, all of you. Can't you see he wants to talk?” It was true—Kroco was eager to have a second chance to meet his friend.

 

“Thank you, Bloody Mary. I was just going to say that the space-dragon went to Earth to battle its father. The two dragons were evenly matched, with the crystalline variant possessing a slight advantage due to its alien powers. Their duel at sea was legendary, but in the end the creature from Earth was victorious. It cast its opponent into space, leaking radioactive blood, to die.

 

“The crystal-dragon eventually crossed through a wormhole to far-distant Breon, where it collapsed and succumbed to its wounds. Its blood and rotting tissues leaked down into the soil, and slowly Breon, a desert world home only to hardy, simple lifeforms, became fertile enough to spawn sentient life. The reptilian lifeforms that developed from the space-dragon's decay at a quickened speed founded a civilization centered around the crystal spires left behind from the creature's remains. The Breonites claim that they were 'called' to cut the first Mogogs from the glowing _Hemkra_ crystals, giving them a gigantic reptilian form blessed with three eyes, the Breonite sacred mark. Once they had shaped the creatures who were to become their guardians and gods, the energies of the _Hemkra_ made the crystal titans come to life.”

 

“Hemkra Quartz? Now we're getting somewhere. Those Rhetonian minerals are part of Zoga's body, too. They enable her to shift through time and space. Last time I fought Dr. Kamarack he told me that Zoga and the Scandium Conqueror had fought at some point, because Scand wanted to steal her crystals. Because of course he did.”

 

“Lady Zoga is distantly related to the dragon I'm talking about, I'm sure of it,” Kroco said. “And therefore she's related to my people. My race, the Krocosaurs—we were born of a divine pact between the Mogog idols and the Breonites. The Mogogs helped the Breonites until they realized that this mortal plane was too small for them. The Mogogs needed to ascend. They told the Breonites that they would leave instructions to build Mogogs of stone and wood and metal. These would simultaneously be the new enlightened servants of the people, and idols commemorating the sacred glory of the crystalline predecessors. As an additional gift to their people, the Mogogs would also leave behind their 'children,' who were to become my species. They were a compromise between the divine Mogogs and the Breonites, a halfway point—born of the _Hemkra_ and yet clad in scales and bones and blood. When the Mogogs finally ascended to godhood—to steward the Heaven of Breon, it is said—they left behind the eggs which would hatch the first Krocosaurs. I consider myself to be a Breonite just as much as I am a Krocosaur—but now I'm a pirate. The pirate coalition I serve is made up of the descendants of the myriad races who once made up the destructive league known as the Covenant.”

 

He had now tugged some of the loose fur free from the layers of his backside, and crudely tied the stem of the carnation into the locks. Though some of them were desiccated by now, Mary-1949 noticed a variety of flowers tied into the lizard's green hair.

 

“The pirates claim that our psychic glands, a leftover from our Mogog ancestry, can be used to make us more like Mogogs. They think we can _turn into_ Mogogs, by manipulating our glands, but they're wrong.”

 

“Strangely specific belief.”

 

“Several Krocosaurs have been vivisected, and others were brought to the planet's molten regions,” Kroco continued. “The stress from the heat warps their psychic abilities, turning it inward and mutating their genes. We call the resultant six-eyed creatures 'Krocomaya.' That is our power, Mary, the power of the Krocosaurs. The glands which the Mogogs left in our bodies allow us to feel Breon's power beneath us when we walk on the planet's surface. It brings us closer to the chosen people of our gods. But also, these psychic sensors let us change our bodies to defend the Breonites if need be. Yet my brood and I have been separated from Breon for so long that the pirates are unsure if we can ever change our forms again. I'm happy that way. I like this body, even if I'll be an adolescent forever. But there are bullies.”

 

“I hate bullies,” Bloody Mary said.

 

“I know,” said Kroco, again. “The big one was the Supreme Commander of the pirate forces. A dragon—a winged one, not at all like the Earth-dragon my world descends from. I don't know why I worry about it, since you're gonna make sure I never go back to that planet. But he's like one of the deviants the Duinuogwuin sometimes accidentally give birth to. He's probably descended from the Earth-dragon's triple-headed enemy, which Lee tells me is the creation of the Garoga subclass of the Shaggai. So their King Hydra was probably created on their planet Gor, or Gorea, home of the Alimbic demon of the same name. Gor was their laboratory, granted to them by Azathoth to breed him an army of monsters.”

 

“Now you're starting to lose me, but that's okay,” Bloody Mary said.

 

“That's all there is to my story.”

 

“It's pretty intense,” Mary said, smiling. “You know, I've been listening to you for so long, and I haven't even asked where I am.”

 

“Fortunately _I've_ been figuring that out. Ms. Reál has been hosting a telepathic conversation between her and I and Karnation here. I've been figuring _practical_ things out,” said Penelope.

 

“Don't listen to her, she's white,” Mary told Kroco. “She doesn't like listening to other people when they tell their stories. Even by the late '70s they're still like that.”

 

“I don't need reminding!” the older Mary called over. She had been sitting near the Penelope-Raven-Lee trio but seemed to be in a world of her own, rather than communing through Raven's psychic network.

 

“I do like listening to other people. For example, Raven told me that we're in Malta. You and I have interrupted a mission to look for some guy named Peterson.”

 

“Oh, it's not super important. In my old age I like feeling time-erased memories catching up with me,” said the Francine Rainsford of the '60s. “Henry Oliver Peterson isn't the most threatening guy we've faced, trust me.”

 

“Oh gosh. Do I need to hear his story now?”

 

“I mean, the basic rundown is that he ran a criminal operation just a month or so before Zoga's trap or whatever brought you here,” the elder Mary said. “H.O. Peterson is the son of Carl Peterson—his brother, Carl Peterson Jr., is a big name in my time, as far as the underworld goes. Henry's dad didn't really care for him so he was largely raised by Peterson's associate Caspar Gutman. There are stories that Gutman is or was an immortal, and that he was also Count Fosco, but I don't know if I believe that.”

 

“But also...who knows?”

 

“Who knows indeed. Well, Henry Peterson grew up admiring Gutman's 1928 scheme to obtain a certain valuable bird statue with origins here in Malta, where he worked with an associate named Joel Cairo. After spending fifteen years in jail Cairo met with Peterson and made an arrangement based on certain lands in Africa that Cairo's father was the owner of. Cairo was named after the Egyptian city because his dad was a prominent citizen there—Cairo's dad was Sheikh Ahmed bin-Hassan. And the Sheikh owned oil rich lands on the northern continent that Cairo intended to steal, with Peterson's aid. Using the name 'Julius O'Hara,' Cairo embarked on a cruise to Africa with Peterson and two others. They met a man named Billy Dannreuther, whose real name was Billy Land—he was the brother of Sam Spade, the detective Cairo faced before. Land, or Dannreuther, ended up working with a woman named Chelm to stop Peterson and his associates. Cairo served fifteen years for the second time in his life.”

 

“Is he helping Peterson now?”

 

“No, the story goes that Cairo died in prison. But Peterson has been working with other criminals—the Palermo crime family. The rumor goes that they have some sort of connection to the falcon statue Caspar Gutman was obsessed with.”

 

“Is it possible he's trying to recover the Falcon to become wealthy? That's not illegal, unless he's stealing it.”

 

“I'm not sure what's up, now that I know Zoga is involved. This could all be a con. But supposedly Peterson's holed up in a place called Fortizza tal-Mewt, an old Templar fortress. It was built during the Crusades by a knight named Jacques de Molay.”

 

“Scand's dad? Ew. And I don't even need to know Maltese to understand that that name means 'Fortress of Death.'”

 

“Shit, that's right, I've been letting my Maltese slip these last twenty years. The Fortress was probably one of de Molay's hives for hiding his preserved zombie Templars.”

 

“Why would Peterson be hiding there, then?”

 

The older Mary had to confess she didn't know.

 

The two Marys kept chatting. By now Mary's friends—Penelope and Lee, at least—knew that Mary planned best when she had a chance to talk to herself. Those two were talking to each other while Raven and Kroco stayed on as an audience, hungry for social companionship.

 

“What's your story, then, sister Penelope?” said Lee, drearily. Penelope was realizing now much he looked and sounded like Humphrey Bogart. “How'd you get to know Mary? She tells us about some of her older friends sometimes, but she's pretty cautious on spillin' the beans most days.”

 

“I met Mary through my husband, Ernest.”

 

“Ohh, so yer the wife of that time-traveler fella. I see, I see. Too bad, what happened to your old man.”

 

“Well, if I ever find the demon Kul'ul, I intend to kill him,” Penelope said. “For the sake of my son, Johnny.”

 

“Oh, that's another one,” Raven said then. “Brian had a son, Loretta von Helsing had a daughter, Ormond Murks had a son, Immorté had a daughter—it's like a pattern.”

 

“Working with Bloody Mary doesn't take our lives away, it makes them better. That's what I've always thought for myself, anyway,” Penelope said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Kroco had stood up and wandered off towards the treeline that flanked them. A glance confirmed for her that he had seen flowers that he wanted for himself.

 

“I mean. I know it's not always great,” she continued. “Sometimes—sometimes it does take lives away.”

 

“Yeah, it can be a harsh business sometimes,” Lee said.

 

Suddenly, a voice entered Penelope's mind—it was Raven's. “Don't dwell on anything depressing—Lee's been doing bad lately. I am sorry about your husband but he does very poorly around grief.”

 

“I get it. And my grief isn't so immediate,” Penelope said. “I have my son. I have my job with Mary. These things keep me going.”

 

But in the stirring motion of her telepathic channel, Raven accidentally let loose the backlash of emotions she'd intended to keep private from the other woman. She planted the seed of fear in Penelope's mind once again that John was in danger. Or perhaps Penelope sent the seed that was already there to Raven, who bounced it back.

 

They didn't want to think about how there was no safe way of dealing with the danger that Mary voluntarily threw herself into.

 

“So who are some of your enemies? Dr. Kamarack, I'm guessing—and Scand? He's always jumping around. The Klan must still be causing trouble, and there are always Tsuu-Aas cultists to worry about.”

 

“The Klan was outlawed a couple years ago,” Karnation Lee said then. “Those who didn't surrender declared the U.S. a dictatorship, and they formed posses that tried to raid a couple army bases. They were arrested or shot down.”

 

“In 1969, though, with all the hippies getting turned on to the occult, there's more Tsuu-Aas worship than ever. There was a Tsuu-Aas cult busted just a few years ago in El Paso,” Raven said. “It was led by a powerful sorcerer named Dzhoshua Maksudov, the son of an obscure Russian writer. Both he and his father called themselves 'the Master.' The younger Master, the one who headed this cult, he was a Moonchild.”

 

“You heard of that guy, the Hunter?” Lee asked. “Boris Orloff?”

 

“Sure, Mary and her dad fought him before I started going around with her.”

 

“He was helped out by his Nazi brother, Paul Orloff. And those two Orloffs had another brother, Feodor, who tried to transfer his consciousness or somethin' into Maksudov when the Russian was his apprentice. He partially succeeded, too—he left parts of himself in the young man's mind, which deepened Maksudov's connection to Tsuu-Aas. Not even the First Enemy of the Multiverse has taken over a Moonchild's body.”

 

“Oh. Is—is that bad?”

 

“Pretty bad. But Feodor Orloff wasn't the First Enemy, so I think we're okay.”

 

Penelope didn't want to inquire further down that road. Fortunately, Raven detected this.

 

“You wanted to know about our other foes. We spent some time fighting an aging Nazi who survived the War. Karl Vipoering, also known as 'Suet-Pudding,' because of the shape of his head, was working with Dr. Mengele to clone Hitler. We got to fight alongside Bart Hill, the Daredevil, when one of those clones put on Klan robes and starting threatening Central City.”

 

“Yeah, those were fun times,” said Lee. “Kroco wasn't with us then, but y'know, for a little bit, they were close to calling us 'the New Fantastic F—'”

 

“Then we were nearly sued,” Raven said. “It was the press' name but _we_ were almost sued. Richards is too litigious.”

 

“Someone tried to sue Bloody Mary?”

 

“Another vigilante. But that's all over with.”

 

“I never thought that _lawsuits_ would end up joining Mary's rogues gallery...”

 

The two Marys were done chatting now. They approached the group.

 

“We have a plan,” the older Mary said.

 

“But we need your help,” added the younger.

 

“Mary, if you want my help, you really gotta let me tinker with something. I feel like since I started working for you, I haven't really been putting my Master's in engineering to good work,” Karnation Lee said. “I'm getting antsy, with nothing to do to with my hands.”

 

“Don't be fussy, Karn,” Mary-1969 said. “If we're fighting Lady Zoga, we'll need some tech help. She has an energy weapon, a sword of some kind. It can become a whip at her command.”

 

“Sure, sure. Hey Mary, I remember from the Immorté files that yer mirror-powers are tied to Hemkra energy. Do you think you could get me some of that energy?”

 

“Absolutely!”

 

“Wait,” Mary-'49 said then. “We figured out to control _Hemkra energy_ by 1969?”

 

“Oh, yeah. I mean, it's difficult. Lee, I assume you just need a little.”

 

“Yeah, I think I can set up the resonance grid from just a pinch. I've got some quartz in my pocket to pass it into, so I just need some metal tubing. You know, with some junk I've got on me, I can probably set up a rig to contact the Akashic cyber-belts in the future. Run some auto-fill Prometheus program to give myself temporary sword skills.”

 

“That's great,” Mary-1969 said. “Lilith, your psionics will be useful against Zoga's magic. Mess around with her thoughts...”

 

“...and then slap her down with my telekinesis,” she concluded. “Got it, boss.”

 

“Kroco? Do your best but if you gotta run, go ahead.”

 

“I'll do what I can, yes,” Kroco said. “My spikes and my claws are at your disposal.”

 

“Penelope, you're welcome to develop a strategy of your own, but you can't survive personal combat against Zoga.”

 

“Hey, I've faced her down a few times. I'm a black belt in baritsu—I could knock Sherlock Holmes down.”

 

“That's true, I remember. Just focus on what I used to tell you...”

 

“'Watch that blade'? Got it. This is yesterday for me, Mary, even if it's not to you.”

 

“Ooh, don't say those things, you make me feel old. But if we're all ready...let's head out.”

 

The older Bloody Mary had left no instructions for her younger self. Evidently she trusted her, but Penelope could see that her friend looked a little lost. She was ready to fight Zoga, yet this encounter with her other self had sparked in her a sudden lack of self-confidence. Penelope had seen the same look in the face of the younger Mary who she'd met before, when “her” Mary had spoken to her.

 

But that wavering fear of the future vanished, and Mary grinned at her friend.

 

“Kroco's story was really helpful,” she said. “We know that that radioactive 'dragon' he mentioned contributed genetic material to Zoga. She has that Japanese monster's skin, and that's what helps her resist damage.”

 

“The Rhetonian crystals she has mounted on her—they're the same Rheton Hemkra Quartz that Kroco mentioned in his story, aren't they? They're what allow her to shift through dimensions.”

 

“And there's her other hybridizations too. She's made out of a bunch of different aliens, most of them artificial killers. It's like she was designed to wipe out superhumans like me.”

 

“And once she was made, she kept making herself better,” Penelope concluded. “She's probably the most dangerous thing I've ever seen, Mary. And if I can say so, it's probably the same for even...Mary?”

 

“Yes?” It was the older Bloody Mary who called back. They were at the outer edge of the treeline now, stepping down into one of the rustic plains of Malta that may have once been farmland. In the distance was the stone structure of the fortress.

 

“No, I mean younger Mary. She—” She must have been left behind.

 

No, Penelope thought. She must have gone on ahead.

 

Why did she think that—?

 

No matter. She would look for Mary out on the plains. What could have possibly happened in this short walk through the trees?

 

###

 

Bloody Mary watched from the containment sphere as the party went on without her. She'd called out to Penelope when she looked back, but Zoga had pulled a mind-trick on her, preventing her from seeing the trap that held her. Zoga also hid the low laughter that came from her throat as she saw her foe struggling against the psy-glass.

 

“They won't be coming back for you I'm afraid, Mary. Even your older self is helpless before my magic.”

 

Zoga stepped out of the underbrush, having disguised herself with a trademark black cloak. Her scaled face, noseless and fanged, was unmistakable even under the shadow of the hood. Her dark magic had brought a yellow glow to her eyes, and her fingers had claws at the ends.

 

“Your joy in life is at an end, my dear,” she hissed quietly. “Today you will see your future die, alongside your friends.”

 

“You got me, Zoga, I'll give you that.”

 

“ _Lady_ Zoga, if you please.”

 

“No. What I was going to say was that my future self is much more capable. And she lives at least another fourteen years. I've seen that future, and so if you destroy her, then you'll be calling down the Golden Guardians on your head.”

 

“You've always been so terrified of the Guardians, Mary. I do not share your fear. I have killed them before and I will do so again. I am from beyond, my friend. Your universe's timeline is like clay to me, waiting to be molded. My plan is much more complicated than it first appears. After all, the lips that move to speak to you now aren't actually mine.”

 

“Another psychic hologram?”

 

“No—a clone. A young woman whom I have made into a clone of myself. She is of great interest to your friend, the girl who carelessly uses two names. My host is a reflection of her own self-duplication.”

 

“Don't hurt that Lilith girl—or Raven, or whatever her name is! Just leave us alone!”

 

“We both know that that's not possible. You know, Mary, among the Oddian mutants, there are legends of creatures like this woman...”

 

“I don't care, Zoga—as soon as I find a reflection in this sphere, you're dead.”

 

“You won't find one. Seriously, you think I'd give you access to the Mirror-Realm so easily? But as I was saying, the Oddians say that powerful psychics can create doubles of themselves without relying on the usual cantrips and rituals that are used to that same effect. But these doubles are created unwittingly and unwillingly, for they are born to counteract the psychic force of the originator. They are a custom-built predator designed for one specific medium. Of course, with my flesh placed over hers, I don't feel the craving to hunt down and kill Lilith.” She grinned, and began to walk away from the ball which held Mary. “Her name is Circe. In this era she was the rival of a young woman named Scyla. She is most interesting—an illegitimate child of Zahl Doone, maybe? But it doesn't matter.”

 

“Zoga!”

 

As she strode away, the sorceress called over her shoulder. “It's Lady Zoga, thank you very much!”

 

Mary leaned back in the sphere and closed her eyes. She hated being childish with her foes, but she couldn't stop her lips from pronouncing the word. “Bitch.”

 

###

 

Up ahead, Karnation Lee was talking to Raven. He had in his hand a small metal disk, which was lit up with a blue glow—the glow was the rim of the portal he'd opened to the carnation dimension. He was plucking out the flowers and throwing them at Kroco, who remained blissfully ignorant of their conversation. Right now, Bloody Mary was focusing on infusing Hemkra energies into the quartz inside the metal shaft Lee had put together.

 

“So you're sayin' she's not in the castle, then?” Lee said.

 

“The malevolence surrounds us—my powers are clouded,” Raven replied. “But I'm sure that she's much nearer to us than that castle. In fact—I swear by The Shop that she's behind us.”

 

“Anything I can do to help you confirm that?”

 

“No—I can feel it now. She's following us, invisible. Keeping pace.”

 

“Keeping pace exactly?”

 

“Yes. I've been changing my speed and you've been doing the same to keep with me. And when we slow down, she slows down.”

 

“Well, why don't we just have a chat for a bit, huh? If she's giving us the time.”

 

“We can chat if you like.” Raven didn't reveal it, but she could tell that he was looking for therapy again. No—that sounded too dismissive. He wanted help and he was not used to getting it. Which meant he wasn't used to asking for it.

 

“You ever think about who you are, Lil? You ever think about the journey you've made?”

 

“That's pretty vague, Karn. You'll have to go a bit deeper.”

 

“I mean do you ever think of yourself as a failure? Or that you've messed somethin' up in your journey?”

 

“Sometimes I doubt myself. I think everyone does—with varying frequency and bitterness. Why do you think you've failed?”

 

He didn't offer resistance—it was clear he had been talking about himself and he knew it. “I've just never established myself as—as a full person, I s'pose. I got traded around a lot between different adventures and along the way, I was retooled and reshaped to be different every time.” He paused. “I met Doctor Omega once, when he was a she. I met her twice over. And I acted totally different than how I am now. I think I may've ever looked different. It's like—” And he stopped.

 

“Like what?”

 

“It's weird. You won't believe me, but this is how my brain puts it. It's like I'm not a real person, and I exist just to fit different stories. Like I was a character in a book or something. And like I've never felt like I've felt I'm real. I just get moved around to figure into the stories of people bigger than me.”

 

“Oh, Karn...” She wrapped an arm around him. The others didn't seem to notice. “That sounds awful. I'm sorry you've been through it. Does this link to your fears about mind-control?”

 

“I'm sure my mind was rewritten a bunch of times. Sometimes I forget that it was ever like that—that's part of it. But doctors say there's nothin' wrong with my gourd, save that I insist on actin' like 'an anachronistic eccentric.'”

 

“And why do you do that? Do you feel like you didn't belong in the 41st Century?”

 

“No, no, I act like this 'cause I like ancient movies. I don't know why I didn't act like that when I met Doctor Omega. It wasn't her enemy messing with me, no—it was somethin' else. But what, I don't think I'll ever learn the name to.” He sighed, both mentally and physically. “After Mary, I'm sure I'll be tossed to someplace else. Having no real home to go to.”

 

“I don't think that's true. You must have had some reason for leaving those other adventurers. There must have been some ending to your travels together.”

 

“I don't remember any. It was just, bam, I was gone.”

 

“That is strange. I suppose it's true what Shakespeare said. Our philosophy is pretty limited.”

 

“Even by the 41st Century we still don't know nothin'. It's better than what we had before but we're findin' shit out in space that doesn't make a lick of sense. Artifacts from the Old Ones and the Celestials and the Forerunners and the Preservers, and possibly even older presences. Our religions cracked a while ago, but for centuries that spirit has still been in us—the idea that we know everything about the creation of our reality. So in the end I'm not the only one who's got a falsehood to their identity. We all traipse around in a world we don't understand. I just understand less'n everyone else.”

 

“The fact that you know that makes you wise, doesn't it?”

 

“But why's my story so weird? What makes me special?”

 

“We all make ourselves special, Karn. We take what we have and we make it work. And we do it our way, and that's what matters.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

Then he turned to look at her, and said, out loud, “Someone else just climbed into the psychic chat.”

 

The voice that purred out could only belong to one woman. “So, Karnation Lee, you're afraid of being possessed again.”

 

Mary and Kroco had heard Lee speak, so they were near him now.

 

“Sure,” he said psychically. “Sure I don't want no one tamperin' around in my head anymore.”

 

“Then you will hear the screams of your friends as I force your hands to kill them.”

 

Lee twitched for a moment, and felt a rising frustration emerge from Lady Zoga's mind. She was trying to enter into his brain but he'd already taken of that.

 

“Neural implants,” he said then. “Don't hurt my ability to receive telepathy none, but I'm never getting possessed again. I just need to patent these and I'm in business.”

 

“Your technology is amazing,” Zoga confessed. “My will can't break through the barrier you've built.”

 

Now there was a shimmer before them, as Zoga removed her personal cloak. She kept it up over the sphere that held Bloody Mary-1949, however. No one knew that she was the silent witness of the clash that was about to come.

 

Zoga raised a clawed hand, and suddenly a heavy gale began to blow towards the five. Bloody Mary stood at the front, trying to block the force with her body, but it did no good—this magical wind affected even her spectral form. But Raven had her back. She was trying to counteract the gusts with her telekinesis.

 

“Raven! Kroco! Penelope! Mary and I aren't done with the tech I'm gonna need to stand up to her,” Lee said then. “We need you to cover us. Do everything ya can to stop that witch!”

 

Raven's eyes glowed as she finally shoved back Zoga's assault. “Get behind Kroco, Penelope. He's not easy to get through.”

 

“That's good praise,” said Kroco happily, as he wobbled in front of Penelope. “Hey, watch this! I'll show you how _I_ fight!”

 

As soon as she was sheltered behind his broad body, the spikes on his belly began to stretch away from him. And then they broke, flying free as missile-like projectiles. Zoga dodged out of the way, but Kroco raised his two fingered hands, and the thick, stubby claws that tipped those fingers flew out just as his torso-spikes had.

 

“Organic protein microfactories built into my organs and fingers—a relic of the Mogogs,” he explained.

 

His barrage kept her running—as long as she was moving she couldn't focus long enough to work her magic. Then it was Raven's move. She had little around her to use her telekinesis on, except for the dirt under her feet. But that was what she used, tugging it upward and forming the clods into dense spheres. More than a few of them struck the self-proclaimed Lady of Darkness.

 

Penelope wished there was more she could do. She looked back at Lee and Bloody Mary, who were working hard on the metal tube and the other device, which Penelope could now see looked like a headset of some kind. “Mary, where's your younger self?”

 

“Your Mary? I don't know. I assumed she went on ahead.”

 

“So did I but if she had she'd be with us now.”

 

Fortunately, the ghostly avenger was done building Lee's weapon. “I'm gonna try to make psychic contact,” she said.

 

“Should I get Raven?” asked Lee.

 

“No, we need her on the front lines if I'm gonna be out of action. Almost ready, Lee?”

 

“Almost. Just give me a few seconds to download and we'll be hot.”

 

“It's too late for that, Karn,” Mary said, laughing. “Have you seen us? We make the sun look cold.”

 

And then she got back to reaching out to her younger self.

 

“Mr. Lee,” Penelope said. “Is there anything I can do? Can you whip me up a weapon?”

 

“Not enough time or parts. But if I go down, grab the headset and the sword. Press this button, and this button—” He pointed at one on the shaft, and one on the headset. “And you'll turn on the blade, and download the training. Software will run in your head for about thirty minutes. Redose if it comes down to that.”

 

“Are there drugs involved?”

 

“Nah. You want there to be?”

  
“I'll just revel in the high of admiring your technology.”

 

“This? This is nothin'. You should see me really work.”

 

He put the headset on. “Oh, also, there's a thirty-second warmup time. Be prepared for that.”

 

Raven hadn't been playing close enough attention. Zoga was strafing around and worming slowly towards Kroco. Raven knew that her sword could split him open tail to mouth.

 

She sent a psychic warning to him: “Kroco, watch out!” But there was a feeling of turbulence as her thoughts soared out towards him. She heard a laugh in her mind.

 

“I'm psychic too, Raven Reál. Don't forget that. He won't hear you in time to evade, the poor stupid brute—”

 

She drew her crimson blade. As it flashed out towards the reptilian alien he cringed away from her. He could have hit her at point-blank range, but perhaps his microfactories were exhausted. The sword swung down on his neck.

 

Yet it collided against the white light of a similar blade. Karnation Lee had arrived just in time.

 

“Karn!” Kroco exclaimed.

 

“Stand back, kid,” Lee said. “I've only got thirty minutes to dismember this bitch.”

 

“Scanning your mind shows you know almost every major sword-fighting style,” Zoga said. “Impressive. But I was raised by a nephew of the Old Ones—I am the heir of the Great Octopus. I wish you luck.”

 

She raised her sword again, and brought it down to clash with Lee's.

 

Penelope watched as Mary went on trying to reach herself. Did she really think they needed two Marys to bring Zoga down? Admittedly, she and her Mary had failed thus far. She wasn't psychic, but she could tell that her friend was afraid. Even two decades later, Bloody Mary still feared the power of Lady Zoga.

 

Lee and the Dark Lady exchanged several blows and parries, doing little more than drive each back in circles. But Zoga's hand curved up in a sweeping gesture, and her telekinesis battered out towards Lee. The way his arms swept back he nearly cut his own head off—which was probably Zoga's intent. His salvation was switching the blade off at the last second. He fell onto the muddy ground, his sword arm pinned beneath him. When she slammed her sword down into the soil next to him he felt the vibrations echo up towards him—but he didn't falter. He bounded back up and soon the white blade was projected again.

 

“Same crap that Om had, when we were doin' missions for him on Thunder Mountain...” the inventor-detective murmured.

 

“Mary, please tell me there's going to be two of you,” Penelope said.

 

Raven had joined her, her powers exhausted. She had been watching the duel helplessly alongside Kroco. But now she approached Mary. “I echo that. Lee's future Internet downloads are cool and all, but Zoga had a lot more than telekinesis.”

 

Zoga must have heard her. At that moment, her fingertips became a burst of electricity that sparked over Lee's body. He screamed briefly and jolted backwards, this time losing his grip on his weapon.

 

“Oh, by the goddess,” Raven choked out. “I can't leave him. I've got to help him!”

 

“Raven, wait!” Mary said, opening her eyes. “I'm transferring Hemkra energy to my younger self's prison, she'll be free in...”

 

But it was too late. Zoga sensed Raven's approach, and bided her time until the psychic was close.

 

Then she lashed out. The blow was hurried, intended to take her by surprise as much as possible. Just a quick dart, a small smoking hole, and the girl who nicknamed herself Lilith would be dead.

 

Instead, the strike pierced the chest of another.

 

At that moment, the invisible sphere broke open, and Bloody Mary-1949 escaped. Zoga whirled around and dove towards her. She said nothing—there was only murder on her mind.

 

She had already killed someone, though he lingered in life. Raven Reál's eyes widened as she realized that the man in her arms was going to die—and that that man was Karnation Lee. She scanned his mind, remembering his old stories, his old contradictions, about abandoning his former comrades with the aid of a faked death. But unless he was a better actor than she thought, she felt the recognizable terror that came over him in a single moment.

 

But only for a moment.

 

“Raven...” he whispered.

 

“It's gonna be okay, Lee. She's fighting Mary now, and she'll get her.”

 

“Raven, I just wanted to know who I was. I never knew.”

 

“You're a good man, Karn. That's what you are.”

 

“Oh, yeah? Then how come I'm a pickpocket now?”

 

In his hands, suddenly, were the cigarettes and lighter she'd taken from him.

 

“I've always been a pickpocket,” he said.

 

“But you never mentioned—” She stopped then. Kroco was starting to howl, as he looked down at his friends with large eyes welling with tears. “It's okay. It's okay that you never mentioned it. That's what makes you a special guy, Karn, these changes in your life. I mean, what if that's who you are? Someone who just shifts and changes? What if you're special in the Multiverse, and that's what makes you this way...?”

 

He knew that somehow, her powers had left her with accidental knowledge of the truth. He grinned.

 

“I like it if we keep it at 'good man.' I'm pretty sure that's a good thing to be.”

 

And then he was dead.

 

Raven blinked. Then she gasped, and put her hand over her mouth. She cried as Penelope Darwood put her arms around her.

 

But then Raven pulled herself back. Something was wrong. As Lee's body slumped out of her grip, Kroco started making a strange noise. In what seemed to be the distance, two Bloody Marys battled Zoga.

 

“I hadn't even met him yet!” Mary-1949 cried. “I have to go on knowing that one day I'll be close to a man who's doomed to die!”

 

“You could have saved him,” Zoga taunted, more to the older Mary than the younger. “You could have changed his fate. But you failed.”

 

At that moment, however, the younger Mary grabbed Zoga from behind, pinning her arms. Mary-1969 approached her slowly.

 

“You'll get yours for killing Lee.” And she clawed, deep and slow, across the Dark Lady's face.

  
“Ahh—!” the witch kicked the older Mary away and jerked forward, throwing the Mary from 1949 onto the sand. She sprang up, and the two of them came towards their enemy, only for her to draw her crimson sword.

 

“I was _glad_ to kill Karnation Lee,” she said. “I'm glad I hurt you, Mary. Every time your pain and anger grow, I become stronger. I came for you because I tired of a lack of worthy adversaries. But I guess I'll have to throw you in the garbage pile with all the rest!”

 

She raised both hands, and there was nothing they could to stop her telekinesis. They flew back, and now Zoga swung her blade down sharply through the air. At this gesture, the blade doubled in length, and lost its rigidity—it was now instead a whip made of scarlet light. As she swung it, it made an authentic-enough cracking sound that rang through the air.

 

“I don't like whips,” Mary heard herself say. “Brings up bad memories.”

 

“Ah, yes, psychological warfare from the Klan. Deliberate invocation of symbolism from a particular point in your species' ongoing period of slavery.”

 

“Don't be ridiculous,” Mary-'49 said. “Slavery ended decades ago.”

 

“We may not have slaves in America, Francine, but we do in other places,” her older self said. “And in America we have different names for them. Now we pay them, but never enough so they can really live. They're just as dependent on their 'masters' as our ancestors were forced to be.”

 

“Perhaps the two of you will be my slaves,” Zoga said. “Would that break you? Would that humiliate you?”

 

“No,” Mary replied. “We'd only fight harder than ever.” She gestured to her older self. “I'm going to show her what we did to Tsuu-Aas.”

 

“No, Francine, it's a trap!”

 

The crimson whip lashed out, and like a snake it coiled around Mary's spectral body. She grunted, the searing energies burning hot against her. She could take the pain, but it would only be a few moments before she passed out. If she did, she'd turn back into Francine Rainsford, and then the red-hot coils would carve her to pieces. It was like she always told Penelope: “Watch that blade.” She had paid the price for forgetting her own warning.

 

Mary-1969 had her back. She took advantage of Zoga's opening to charge at her. Zoga sensed her presence too late—perhaps the vigilante had shielded her mind. Her claws cut into Zoga, leaving superficial but rough-looking injuries. She bled blue and orange, and screamed, losing her grip on her weapon. The younger Mary was ready to go for her. But a voice in her mind told her to stop.

 

She didn't recognize the voice at first—it was too quiet, too vague. She thought it could have been Zoga trying to trick her. But she realized, too late, that it was Raven. Only know did she think of warning her that Zoga wasn't actually Zoga—this woman was a human who took on Zoga's physical form after becoming her satellite body. And that woman, Circe, and Raven—they were _linked_ somehow.

 

But it was too late. “This is for Karn.” Raven seized Zoga by the throat, and Lee's sword pierced through her heart.

 

Bloody Mary felt a brief shudder of triumph rise in Raven. Her mind was cluttered, broadcasting wildly her grief for Lee, her fear for Kroco, and her pride in striking down Lee's killer, all at once. Then, her mind went blank. The woman she killed wasn't Zoga—it was like she had never been Zoga. She was an ordinary human woman. Yet her appearance, Raven realized, was similar to her own. She had struck down her psychic double, and now, all of them could feel through her wide-spanning flail of thoughts as that act knocked her into a coma.

 

“Oh, no, no,” Mary-1969 said. “No, no, no, no, no...” Her voice was deathly quiet. Her younger self had not known Raven, but she could work that to her advantage. She rushed to Mary, who in turn hurried to where Raven had collapsed.

 

“It's going to be okay. It's okay. But we need a plan. This isn't Zoga. Zoga is in the castle...”

 

“Yes, and if the mirrors in there are showing me what's in there—”

 

“Wait, can you see through mirrors without a mirror?”

 

“Yeah, it's another trick you'll pick up. What I was gonna say is that that castle is crawling with far-future space pirates. The guys who enslaved the Krocosaurs.” She squinted. “Lee—Lee told me once about those pirates at once point adopted an armored 'Dark Lady' into their ranks. Zoga isn't one for armor but she could have claimed that she's what the Dark Lady looks like under her trappings.”

 

“So that castle is swarming with pirates, _and_ it has Zoga in it,” the younger Mary said. “We don't stand a chance, unless—”

 

“Mary.” A voice came into both their minds. It wasn't Raven's—it was Kroco's voice that they heard.

 

They turned back to look at him. They hadn't noticed that he had started pulsating—his scaled flesh was rippling and churning as if there was something straining to get out. His body flashed with coursing electrical light, and he screamed.

 

“It seems as if the pirates were correct about the relationship between my genes and my psychic lobes,” Kroco told them mentally. “I-I can rewrite my genetic code psychically—and my lobes become active when I—” He paused. His psychic voice was queasy and unsteady; he hadn't been telepathic before and he was still getting used to it. “—when I get upset. L-l-like if my good friend gets k-killed...” They heard an awful psychic sob.

 

“Kroco, it's gonna be okay,” Mary-1949 said. “I have some psychic training. One of us can help you, and the other can help Raven.”

 

“ _Help Raven_ ,” was the response. “Do everything you can to keep her alive. And Mary—young Mary—protect Penelope. She's needed...”

 

“Kroco, please, calm down. If your mutations are linked to your stress, then—”

 

He roared, and suddenly his muscles stretched and deformed. He was larger now, slightly, and they observed that his horn had slid up his snout somewhat. There was pain in his eyes. “It can't be reversed now. I can feel it. I'm going to become a Magog.”

 

“You're going to become a giant?” Mary-'49 asked.

 

“Magogs are unstoppable gods of war!” Kroco exclaimed. “Mary—I. This is the end of our adventures together. I will be myself for maybe an hour after this, maybe less—and then I will slip away into the world of our gods. Only a monster with my form will remain.”

 

“Kroco!” Mary-1969 shouted, but at her words, Kroco growled again. There was a flash, and he was even larger then—now, he was nearly twice Mary's size. His horn was now between his eyes, and had shrunken down. It almost like an eye itself, a third eye.

 

“Mary, I will destroy Lady Zoga and her time-warped pirate army—but as I grow larger, so too do my psychic lobes—and so does my ability to alter reality itself.”

 

“You can alter reality?!”

 

“Until my lobes burn themselves out and I become 'complete'...my pain will echo across Earth, into four dimensions. That's why I'm going to wipe out Zoga—it will avenge me when you have to bring me back to my time.”

 

“Kroco...” Mary-1969 said. “Kroco, I'm so sorry...”

 

“I'm not—sorry at all. I am that I—had a chance to be your friend.”

 

She took a step back. Then she looked at her younger self. “We'll fight with you, Kroco,” she said.

 

He grinned, and pinched his eyes shut. He was crying, and they both had to look away. But the ensuing flash drew their eyes back. Kroco lost full control, and his psionics mangled his DNA into something alien. His cells responded to this change, producing new hormones, new tissues. He began to grow even larger. They couldn't fathom where he was drawing the extra mass from—no body could grow this fast. In fact—

 

“Francine, you grab Penelope, I'll get Raven and Lee's body.”

 

She spoke so fast, but Bloody Mary knew her own voice, so she responded instantly. She swooped over to take up Penelope in her arms, while her old self retrieved Lee's remains and the comatose Raven. There was a tremendous roar, both from Kroco and from the earth below him, as it distorted under his weight. Soon his feet were the size of Mary's body—then, she was only as large as one of his toes. Fragmented thoughts about the heights of the trees had passed through her mind when she had been walking to what turned out to be her imprisonment. Now, those trees seemed insignificant; until they were far away from Kroco, they couldn't even see his head. When they were a far distance away, however, they saw that for all intents and purposes, he'd virtually become a whole new species. Though his nose-horn had become a third eye, sparkling red between new eyes that glowed with cunning, he had sprouted a second horn at the tip of his nose. Large, stiff flaps of flesh, nearly identical in shape to the hanging ears of a dog, flanked the sides of a head which had shed its long mane for a bulbous protrusion at the back—perhaps indicating an increased brain volume besides the obvious size change. Similarly greater in size was his belly. His spikes had become more complicated—they now emerged from leathery nubs that protruded from the strange vents in his torso, and cracked in such a way that they were now long, tri-splintered spines. He still had but two fingers on each hand, but now they were stretched-out spidery things, still as useless as ever save for the lengthy claws at his fingertips. Mostly strikingly, a long tail had erupted from his body, like a leaf held back by a finger left to unfurl. This enormous tail dragged behind him, like the dinosaurs from films which Mary knew to be inaccurate.

 

The giant creature let out a deafening roar, which shook the whole of Malta.

 

Then he turned to focus his three eyes on the two Marys.

 

“Mary,” he said, telepathically. “I can feel myself fading away. I will hold onto who I am for as long as I can—until you can return me to my right place in history.”

 

“I think you're a bit big for any of the time-machines I have,” the older Mary said, “but I can get you into the Mirror-Realm.” She paused. “And you'd be welcome to stay there, if you want the peace of having no one to hurt.”

 

“As I became more beast-like, I'd only want to smash the Realm, and eventually I'd succeed,” Kroco replied. “But I'm about to commence my assault on the fortress. I'll show those pirates a thing or two.”

 

Then he turned back, so his eyes were locked on the distant tower. Only now could Mary see any hint of the fortress' occupation. There were dark shapes clamoring out of its doors and crevices—some of them were humanoid, some were robots of some kind, others appeared quite alien. Even then, describing some of the shapes as “humanoid” simply meant they had two arms, two legs, one torso, and a head. Suddenly the whole battle seemed impersonal. In the distance, to their right, were swarming ants preparing a crude battle charge. On the left, then, towering like a city on the horizon, was Kroco. Heir to the “earth-dragon”; there was a Japanese word for the type of monster he had become, but neither Mary remembered it now.

 

He began his approach. He raised a heavy foot and brought it down ponderously. At first it seemed as if he was making a threat out of that stomp, but his subsequent steps were echoes of it. It was clear that his legs, splayed wider by the growth of his belly, gave him an awkward two-legged crocodilian gait. Thus his slow walk was more like a controlled wobble. He performed it with confidence.

 

Occasionally he would release a sharp bellow, and for a moment the scampering pirate forces would fall back, before reversing course and pressing forward. Sometimes there would be flashes of laserfire, and the attempted deserters collapsed, murdered by their superiors. Eventually, when they were nowhere near Kroco, they turned their rifles and pistols on him. But the blue-violet laser bursts did no more to Kroco's skin than a soap bubble. At his size, Mary estimated his skin to be at least six inches thick, and those scales were probably as tough as steel. She wondered how he could move without being crushed under his own weight, but then remembered that he said the psionic portions of his brain could manipulate reality. He had likely altered the dimensions of the space around him to allow him to contradict the physics of this planet.

 

Now there were cannons blazing out of the fortress—their reports were distant and wind-blown, and just as ineffective as the ground troops. And Kroco's march forward was just the beginning. As he roared, the long spikes that protruded from his front exploded outward like rockets. Immediately his organic factories produced replacement spikes. The ones he fired sailed out in an arc towards the castle, and their accuracy was perfect. The conclusion of their path was marked by a fiery explosion that shattered the stones of the ancient ruin. Mary, a student of history, only took comfort in the fact that the fortress had been built by servants of star-monsters.

 

But they knew that Zoga was in there, and in possessing Circe she had limited her own power. And she had nearly defeated all of them—the real deal would actually stand a reasonable chance against Kroco, even in his current state. He kept up the bombardment on the castle, while the older Mary looked down at Ravel Reál. She returned to the guise of Francine Rainsford.

 

“Francine,” she told her other self. “Raven needs me. I know a bit more about psychic healing than you do, twenty years later. I'm going to try—”

 

Then, suddenly, Raven's voice entered their minds. She didn't move, or even twitch—and her voice was weak. “Mary. I'm alive, but I need your help. That woman I killed, the one who wasn't Zoga—she developed out of the darker parts of my psyche. I never knew she existed until I struck her down. But that type of psychic clone is heavily tied into the health of the person who creates it. I'm gonna need you to dig deep into my mind if you're going to help me out of this coma.”

 

“I'm here for you, Raven, don't worry,” Francine said. Then she looked at her younger incarnation.

 

“You, Kroco, and Penelope are in charge of raiding the fortress. Do _not_ let Zoga escape.”

 

“I don't think you need to remember being me to know I won't let that happen.”

 

The Bloody Mary of 1969 reached out to set her hand on her own shoulder, as she was in 1949. Then she turned, and reached out towards her younger self's friend.

 

“Penelope Darwood,” Mary said, shaking her hand. “It's been good to see you again. Your son grows up to be a fine man. I hope I get to see you again, when I reach the late '70s.”

 

“I hope I see you again, Mary,” Penelope replied. “I'm sorry about Karnation.”

 

“Yes. Well.” She looked away. “You're gonna be instrumental in making sure he rests easy.”

 

“I won't let you—or him—down.”

 

She then returned to the side of “her” Mary, and they turned back for a moment to watch Kroco trample the pirate drones who had refused to retreat. Then, the spectral crimefighter took her friend's arm, and swept her up to carry her. It had been her sprint that had gotten them away from Kroco, and now, it was just a few minutes down to the fortress.

 

As they got closer to the structure, so did Kroco. When he wasn't growling or letting out another roar, his heavy breathing echoed across the valley. Malta was not a large island, and now Mary and Penelope could see several large groups of locals gathering to watch the events. But if people were seeing this, then word was going around—and there was no way that the local military wouldn't gather. There'd be international reports too, and soon the UN would get involved. (Mary was sure the UN still existed in 1969.) The pirates had only a small fighting force, and there was only a little room inside that castle for heavy weapons. But if Kroco had to face a full fighting force, he could be overwhelmed. Or the reverse would happen—he could turn on the humans at his feet, driven deeper into madness by the strain, and slaughter hundreds.

 

But for now, he was focused on bringing down the pirates. He glanced down, however, and saw Mary and Penelope approaching.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked them. “I have this taken care of. Go back, before the pirates hurt you.”

 

“Zoga is likely planning something for you, Kroco. She stands a solid chance of defeating you, too,” Bloody Mary said. “You need infantry to scout things out.”

 

“Very well. But Mary—I am a Magog now. Reality is starting to shake under my presence. Psychic memories are flashing through the collective unconscious of humanity. Memories from Denmark, Korea, and especially Japan. Images of my ancestors.”

 

Mary let her eyes close for a moment as she kept on running. She felt the images that Kroco spoke rushing over her quickly. There was the “dragon,” who had spawned the space-dragon and the mecha-dragon who Kroco had talked about. Contrary to the movies based on him, he did most of his battles at sea, far from Tokyo. As did his cousin, the monstrous turtle who had been frozen in the ice-caps, alongside a similarly titanic mantis. Only sailors knew of them—but the stories were well-known enough to be turned into film. Now the terrifying reality of those movies was stalking out of the silver screen to inspire worldwide fear of Kroco. The dragon's great-grandson.

 

Soon they were at the wall, and when Mary set Penelope down she handed her friend a familiar object. “Lee's sword,” she said. “Use it as best you can. I'll be with you every step.”

 

“Got it,” Penelope said, igniting the blade. All the pirates ignored them—they were still too busy with Kroco. His spike-blasts had made the interior dimensions external. The pair dashed into what was once an antechamber of sorts, where the pirates, in all their forms, crawled and skittered from the dark depths of the base. Most of them wore armor that disguised their features, but Mary's eyes were quick. She spotted several reptilian species, as well as entities that looked crustacean or insectoid—and finally she made out nub-headed creatures which were worms or slugs packed into a humanoid suit of armor. At first, their ignorance of the intruders persisted. Mary was optimistic—the waves of deployed troopers were breaking now, leaving a point open where they could drop down to the only place Zoga could be hiding. The sun shone bright on the rooms stripped of their ceilings.

 

But then, there was a cry: “Eyy! _Lesh'neh!!_ ”

 

Mary was sure that was pirate for “Hey! Look at that!” The soldiers turned and began firing their laser weapons on them. But even at this distance they were poor shots, possibly due to the flimsiness of their weapons—Mary observed that these pirates used duct tape in their far-off future. Penelope wasted no time. She swung her sword outward, and sliced the barrel off the rifle held by the closest pirate. Then, with a moment's hesitation, she struck the helpless pirate with that blade, bisecting him. Mary didn't like the sight of it either, but there was only so much one could do with a cauterizing sword. She saw that three of the armored slugs were rushing at her, and she saw her chance to spare some lives. When her claws and strong arms took care of them, it was by cracking their metal limbs off. No nerves ran through them, so there was no pain, save for the horror that felt at gazing on her demonic face.

 

Penelope was pretty good with a sword, as it happened. Mary knew that wasn't an “as it happened” sort of skill, however, so she assumed that Mrs. Darwood had had some training in such. When the lasers struck the blade they were deflected back, but hitting the bolts offensively would like playing baseball. That was something Penelope _wasn't_ good at. Here, simple strikes and slices proved sufficient to dispatch the pirates. None of those who had fled the fortress turned back to help their comrades, and the waves were truly broken—once these boys were down, there was nothing stopping them.

 

Penelope took Mary's cue and disabled the pirates instead of killing them—when it was possible. Her white blade flashed out like lightning. Mary's claws possessed the same speed. Soon, the castle was cleared, and the path opened.

 

It was a bit of a drop, so Penelope grabbed onto Mary once again before jumping down. When they were at the bottom they saw only darkness. Mary's eyes adjusted to the dark faster but she could only make out that the floors was tiled.

 

After a moment, several of those tiles lit up and formed short-lived pillars of light. When these pillars dropped down there were more pirates. Only three of them—but Mary realized those other tiles would be activating soon. Bringing more aliens from the future down on their heads.

 

But in the center of their platform was Zoga. She laughed as Penelope and her friend turned sword and claw onto the pirates. Soon they were defeated, but Zoga drew her own weapon and ignited it. This sword that could become a whip was her weapon here as it had been before. Penelope raised her blade to defend herself, knowing that Zoga would likely prey on her. They hadn't seen where Lee's training-band had gone, so whatever training Penelope naturally had would have to serve her here. Which meant that she'd last just a few seconds against Zoga.

 

Still, when the blade came down, she blocked and held it. Zoga grinned her shark-smile, and stepped forward to press her advantage. Penelope was two steps ahead of her. As Zoga pushed hard on the cross of their blades, Penelope switched her sword off. Zoga, briefly stunned, staggered forward, and Penelope made a crude slash in an attempt to behead her. Instead, the shaft of her blade glanced off Zoga's face, producing a scar. The Dark Lady cried out in pain and crumpled at the knees.

 

Before Penelope could finish her off, Zoga retrieved her weapon and activated it, swinging it desperately upward. If it wasn't for Mary she'd have been disemboweled. Now it was Mary's turn to take her on. She wouldn't let her wrap her up in her whip again. She kept swiping her claws at the place where Penelope had struck her, knowing that it would make Zoga lose her cool.

 

Zoga drew her strength from her rage, however, and as she raised a hand her fingertips glowed and wobbled. Then, sparks of lightning burst from them; they hurt Mary even in her spirit-form. She was knocked back, and once more Zoga laughed.

 

She turned back to Penelope, but the warp-tiles had flashed again and now Penelope was being cornered by a group of pirates. They would finish her off. Mary was more important.

 

Zoga unleashed another burst of lightning on Mary, before she had a chance to stand. She cried out in pain, but rose nonetheless. Zoga's face twisted in brief confusion, the same she'd shown when Penelope had tricked her. Mary was remembering that her future friend had been murdered. She, too, was letting her anger guide her.

 

She pounced, before Zoga could raise her scarlet fury. Said weapon slipped from her fingers as Mary pinned her to the ground. By now, Penelope had dispatched the pirates, but before moving over to Zoga she took the time to cut her disarmed sword in half. She lowered Lee's blade over the Dark Lady's head.

 

“Time to give up, Zoga. I almost killed you, but now you're at my mercy, and I won't kill a defenseless being.”

 

“Your loss. Your husband didn't falter. When the Scandium Conqueror was killed by Kul'ul, he was _pushed_ into his embrace.”

 

“Maybe that's why Ernest paid the price,” Penelope said. “God rest him, I won't make his mistake.”

 

“Choosing to kill the helpless is _never_ a mistake,” hissed Zoga. “Your husband died because he was weak. He deserved to die, in the grip of a demon. Maybe he's still alive, wriggling in the myriad limbs of what lies inside Kul'ul's armor. Maybe in the dark he's still _screaming_...”

 

“Penelope...” Mary began, but Penelope raised her free hand.

 

“I know what she's trying to do. And it won't work.” A look of disappointment flashed across Zoga's face. “I mean, come on. I'm from 1983. There's a movie that comes out then that's all about the temptations of the dark...”

 

Bloody Mary had forgotten that Penelope's native era had continued to shift as she led two lives. And now, she was in what Mary already knew to be the last year of her life. She wouldn't be around to help her friend raise her son. Like when Ernest died, Penelope would once more be left alone.

 

The image of a familiar face burst into her mind. Tsuu-Aas, the Bloody Storm—

 

Zoga laughed as her leg came up to kick Mary off. That moment's distraction had been enough. She didn't have her sword-whip, but she could take the thing Penelope threatened her with. She whirled around, and stretched out with her telekinesis to pry Penelope's fingers open.

 

She succeeded, but as the blade flew forward, Zoga seemed to flinch. The flying sword lost none of its momentum. Too late did Zoga realize what was happening. She raised her hand too late to stop the blade from spearing through her eye.

 

She collapsed, having died in an instant. Or so it seemed. Her image began to flicker and change, and it became another human woman, as had happened with the girl named Circe. Penelope and Bloody Mary stared at her in confusion.

 

“Why did she mess that up?” Penelope asked. But Mary only pointed. Her older self approached them now, joined by Raven Reál.

 

“I'm sorry, Mary,” Raven said. “I arranged Zoga's death. I made her flinch at just the right moment where she struck herself down.”

 

“But you've killed an innocent woman in the process—Zoga's puppet,” Penelope said.

 

“That woman, Birgit Suomaa, is a user of dark magic,” Raven explained. “In Finland she is infamous for her witchcraft. She resurrected herself in the early 1950s and has brought harm and despair to people ever since.”

 

“O-oh. I see.”

 

They all had things to say in that moment, but the castle shook violently. Mary-1949 and Penelope had forgotten about Kroco. Now, his foot plunged down through the roof, sending rubble and dust flying all around them. Raven opened a psychic channel which they could all hear.

 

“Kroco, stop! We're down here!”

 

“Did we win?” Kroco asked. His voice was different now—louder, coarser.

 

“We won, Kroco,” Mary-1969 assured him. “I can remember thanks to my younger self that we're standing on the transport pad for the pirate army.” She examined the tiles briefly. “The tech in the floor is a crude emulation of the warping abilities the Mirror-Realm gives me. It's a Hemkra matrix...”

 

“I was afraid of that,” sighed Kroco. “Mary, you won't have to transfer me to my own time through the Mirror-Realm. There is about to be an unpleasant reaction between the Hemkra Quartz of this platform and the Hemkra energies of my new body.”

 

“What does that mean?” the younger Mary said.

 

“It means that there is going to be an energy pulse that throws us across space and time. My psionics tell me that we are going to flung back to our—'proper times.'”

 

“What does that mean?” Penelope asked.

 

“It means that you, Penelope, will be returned to 1983. Mary, you'll remain here in your older form with Raven, while your younger self goes back to 1949.”

 

“Wait—Kroco, my son is in 1949,” Penelope said. “I've got to get back to him. If something goes wrong—”

 

“Everything works out for the best, Penelope,” Mary-1969 said. “Tell her the plan, Francine.”

 

“As soon as I'm in 1949, Brian and I will bring Johnny to you in Ernest's machine. I promise.”

 

Penelope saw instantly that Mary wouldn't let her down. But she had to let _her_ down.

 

“Mary, I think this has to be the end of our adventures together,” she said. “I need to stay near to my family, before it vanishes forever.”

 

“I figured you'd say that,” Mary replied sadly. Above them, Kroco was starting to tremble as he helplessly activated the warp grid. “It's been good, Penelope. I'm sorry I failed Ernest.”

 

“You never did. You failed none of us.”

 

“Karn wasn't your fault either,” Raven added. “You blame yourself too much, Mary; that thinking runs against the impact you've left these last 28 years.”

 

“Let's not part in sadness. Because I agree. It's been good,” said Penelope.

 

Bloody Mary smiled—both of them.

 

“I'm still with you, hon,” Raven put in then, addressing the Mary of her era.

 

“Good,” Mary-1969 said. “I-I'm gonna miss this party. Kroco—I—”

 

“I'm with Penelope, Mary. No hard feelings. You changed my life. I won't forget you.” But the problem with his broadband telepathy was that they could tell he was lying. At least about that last part. He would forget her and their adventures together, and he would become a beast. Such was the path of the Magog, it seemed. None of them could comprehend the nature of these artificial celestials.

 

“I'll never forget you,” was the only reply she could give. And she realized, with a gasp she couldn't contain, that in his future he would not love flowers anymore.

 

There was a strange howl that came from above then, and they realized that Kroco was crying. A combination of terror and love overcame him.

 

It was when love won out that the final cork seemed to get pulled. They felt him embrace them all one last time before he was taken back to his era.

 

But his psychic powers were still out of control, probably because of the mutagenic hormones pumping through his brain. They felt a pulse go out around the world, erasing Kroco's image from all who had seen him, save for those in his immediate proximity. But his image blurred and distorted, and so Mary and her allies sensed that minds all around the world were forgetting that _creatures like_ Kroco had ever existed. Somehow it seemed appropriate that all those monsters were being put back into the world of myth. The giant turtle had vanished following its battle with a shark-alien conqueror; the “dragon” who Kroco descended from had already retired back to his island after defeating the thing called Organizer G1 and that prehistoric dragonfly. The movies had already exaggerated these monsters absurdly, but now they would seem all the more fictional in the eyes of the average person.

 

This was inconsequential next to the churning rush of chronal energy that surrounded and separated them. At once, Kroco and Penelope were dragged away into the heavens, disappearing as if swallowed by fog. Then the others began to fall. The older Mary and Raven didn't have far to go before they vanished—they'd never left their native era. But the Bloody Mary of 1949 fell down, down, through the invisible slope of twenty years. When she landed, she found herself in her dad's house—her base. She had given a loud groan when she arrived, and that meant Brian would be coming down to check up on her.

 

But she thought about what the future held for her, feeling parts of it slip away. She knew that when the time came, she would be unprepared for the fates of her comrades.

 

She leaned against the wall, reeling in the grief and exhaustion. Brian's footsteps began to sound from the top of the basement stairs. Bloody Mary just took a moment to catch her breath.

 

 


End file.
